Teeth
by Master Fifer
Summary: Louis is determined to get Lestat's teeth cleaned. NOT Yaoi, Humor. All characters belong to Anne Rice.


What!? SHE WRITES AGAIN!? Read it and weep, but yes. I do! With new inspiration comes new new stories! I really enjoy the Vampire Chronicles as it is a refreshing topic from this Twilight thing... Sorry you Twilight people, I just can't give two hoots about it... ^^' But please! Don't let that come between us.

Lestat needed to get his teeth cleaned.

Now, when I presented this idea to myself in the mirror as I often did when I was thinking about discussing something with him, it had sounded insane. I had to laugh at my reflection for a good five minutes.

Firstly, the general assumption that Lestat would heed _anything_ I said to him and actually consider it was proposterous. He murdered the drapes when I firmly told him he could either cut back on his intake of victims for the week or cut his hair.

I couldn't get him to change his sheets.

And secondly, the mere idea that if in fact this little push of personal hygiene took seed, the very idea of Lestat behaving for anyone, let alone a dentist, was so low it still escapes me as to how I could have even _seen_ it as a possibilty.

Nevertheless, hygiene was so important in the 21st century today it left me quite baffled how he was still surviving. 'Cleanliness' was so next to 'Godliness' I wouldn't have been surprised if God was Mr. Clean himself.

I was religious in partaking in the usual toothbrushing or even a mouthwash before dawn, yet Lestat had no will to even _try_ in keeping up with his appearance.

"Relax, Louis," he told me when I nagged him about at least flossing. "We're _dead._ It's not like our teeth aren't already rotting."

I applaud Lestat's blunt living style.

So I let him pollute his mouth and his body without complaint for a few weeks. That is until I was cleaning and found a Doritos bag in his coffin. Somewhere, a line had been passed.

So I marched upstairs to my own personal quarters and sat in front of the mirror. "Lestat. I think you should get your teeth cleaned." That sounded too house-wifey and whiney. Like I was to stand behind him with the casserole on the table in my floral 60's house dress.

"Lestat, you need to get your teeth cleaned or they'll fall out of your head." That one had incentive and a good scare so he might dwell on the idea for a good two seconds before dismissing it.

I worded and phrased for well over half an hour, feeling like a poet who was so arrogant he couldn't think of ideas without looking at his reflection. Finally, I decided on a good one. "Lestat, I made you an appointment with the dentist to have your teeth cleaned." That left room for little argument, and if worst came to worst he would just scratch and bite the hell out of the couch.

Which could be re-upholstered.

Feeling satisfied, I booked him an appointment in the late evening. Don't ask me how I got such a deal for the time as the 21st century has brought about things in me I didn't know I possessed.

Lestat was to have his teeth cleaned that Thursday at 9:00pm and I wasted no time in telling him this.

I watched him go for the ornate loveseat instead of the couch.

Cleaned up the fluff and stuffing that had been spread across the room.

Put the chair by the door to remind myself to take it in for a new lining.

And wished him a good evening.

I knew he would be even more difficult with this one because I had succeeded in winning a war. If he didn't show up for his teeth cleaning I would taunt him mercilessly about being afraid of the tools and equipment. To think a man who killed eight wolves practically by himself would be intimidated by fluoride and floss!

Tuesday 'I hate you' was sprawled across my coffin lid in sharpee. And though the handwriting was decorative and there were little stick figures clearly labelled 'Louis' engaged in various dying poses with the help of choice weapons along with it, I was not unnerved.

In fact, it made me even more smug if possible. Let Lestat tantrum and carry on like a child, but at least when he went to open that big mouth of his to scream and rant the teeth would look neat and presentable.

My foot had been wedged in the doorway.


End file.
